Kansas
by liftedlorax
Summary: Logan and Piz both find work with the Fitzpatricks for very different reasons.


**Title:** Kansas

**Author: **Allie

**Pairing/Characters:** Logan, Piz, Sheriff Lamb, The Fitzpatricks, Keith, Veronica (mentions Veronica/Piz, Logan/Parker, but nothing explicit)

**Word Count:** 10,657

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** Logan and Piz both find work with the Fitzpatricks for very different reasons.

**Spoilers/Warnings:** Takes place in the summer before junior year (at Hearst), so all aired episodes, but AU as of 3.14( you'll see why). Rating is for language, mature content, and violence. And there are character deaths.

**A/N:** I'm a nutjob. Seriously, it's the only explanation for this fic. Besides that, this is probably my favorite fic of mine. I just couldn't stop writing. Also, this was inspired by the movie _The Departed, _so if it vaguely resembles that, that's why. It's very different, though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Dark sky, dark night, bright moon and bright light. It's kinda like a poem in his head, and he thinks about it over and over, because he's got nothing better to do while he waits. The bench is cool but the Neptune night is warm, and summer's starting, and he'd almost forgotten that with everything.

"_It's just, you know, it's just getting too hard. Too much."_

There are headphones in his ears, but they are just for show as he waits. Wait, wait, wait—but it's easy to remember that his waiting has been over for a while. Self-destruction has finally hit a boiling point, and the other shoe has dropped, and this is his punishment. This is his penance.

This is a damn suicide mission, and he has no more choices.

"_I'm sorry. I don't want to end it like this. I love you, you know? But right now, I need to make a decision for myself. I need to do what's best for me."_

And then, footsteps. He looks up without being too obvious—he's better at this shit than he thought—and spots her, walking alone on the boardwalk at night like the dumb blonde she probably is. He knows next to nothing about her, only what he's supposed to do, what he _has _to do, and he waits a little more. Right on cue, a shadowed figure leaps out at her, knocking the girl over. She hits the floor with a cry, and the figure grabs at her, and he waits a few more seconds to make his move.

"_I'm here, though. I'm staying in Neptune, and I'll always be here for you. Please don't be mad at me."_

The figure goes down with one swing of his fist (he'd learned the guy's name earlier, in his orientation of sorts at the sheriff's department, but now can't care to remember it), and the girl (Molly, he remembers her name well, Molly Fitzpatrick) lets out another cry as she backs away. The two guys scuffle a bit, as is the plan, and Molly doesn't run away, as he'd been afraid of. But soon the attacker stops moving, just as fists stop flying, and he looks at Molly.

"You okay?" he asks, even though he knows she is, that the plan was never to hurt her, only to scare her.

Molly nods, blonde hair bobbing, and she swallows as she looks at his face. "Th—thank you. But you're—"

"Yeah," says Logan, taking her arm and helping her to her feet. "What, just because I hate your family, I can't help a damsel in distress? Don't you know about my hero complex?"

Molly looks uncertain. "Well, just—thanks, Logan. Thank you."

No more choices now—but he doubts this will even work. The plan has been cooked up by _Lamb_, of all people, so it's got about a 30 success rate. "You're welcome. Just tell your brothers they owe me now."

She squints at him, as though trying to read him, and he remembers the word Lamb used: inscrutable. He remembers making a quip about the good sheriff even knowing what that meant, but he calls upon all the inscrutability he can muster. "Okay. I—I guess that's fair."

Logan refuses to smirk, because there can no be emotion in this. "You should know that nothing comes free in this town."

Molly smiles bitterly, and for a split second, he feels guilty for using her. And then he remembers how he doesn't have a choice. No more choices now. "Yeah, I know."

_Parker's hand is warm on his, despite the fact that it's been holding onto the cold metal bar of the cell. "Logan," she whispers, and he doesn't miss the tears streaming down her face in the shadows. "Are you going to be okay?"_

_A door opens and shuts, and Lamb appears behind her, looking like he wants to talk, and Logan isn't sure. For the first time in almost two years, Logan isn't sure if he's going to be okay. _

_He won't lie to Parker, so he says nothing._

* * *

He's never really been a fan of beer, but he sure likes how beer makes him feel. Head dizzy, mind fuzzy, extremities buzzing with numbness and nothingness, and for the first time all night, he feels okay.

He doesn't really like getting drunk, but right now he has no reason not to. He's very, very alone, and there's no one to really give a shit anymore if he gets drunk. No family, no best friend, and definitely no girlfriend.

He finishes another bottle and is wordlessly handed another one. He quite likes the Irish; they know how to keep things coming.

He thinks he should've been prepared, but he's never been dumped before, so he understands why he wasn't. He's been convincing himself that she's been happy and he's been lying to himself and he's only just now realizing. But that isn't the purpose of tonight. The purpose of tonight is to forget.

"_I just think, well, we're very different people, you know? And it's taken me a while to figure it out but, you deserve someone better, and I can't be that for you."_

He's not sure why he picked this place; he had been meeting her at the office when It happened, and then had gone wandering a little dazedly and wound up here. Maybe the name had intrigued him; maybe it had looked dangerous enough that he could be killed, if he was lucky. But whatever the reason is, he's here and he's depressed and he's almost wishing someone would kill him.

A blonde comes rushing through the entrance, looking shaken, and for a split second, he thinks it's Her, here to take him back, take everything back and open her arms to him. But then the blonde hurries over to the scruffy, dirty-looking Irishman who he'd pegged as the bar owner, and he gets himself in check.

She's not coming back. And he's still alone.

"_No, God, it's not about Logan. How can you say that? You know how I feel about him, about what he's been doing to his life. I don't want anything to do with him. This is about us, and our problems, not his."_

He catches bits and pieces of the conversation between the bar owner and the blonde—an attack on the boardwalk, and then Logan Echolls. His blood boils. Logan fucking Echolls. Is there anyone in this town he hasn't destroyed? The bar owner looks as pissed as he feels, and he slams a fist into a pool table. The blonde speaks hurriedly, urgently, and Piz looks away. He tells himself he doesn't care. He tells himself he's starting to forget.

He tells himself Logan Echolls doesn't piss him off, and Logan Echolls isn't making his fists clench and shake. Logan Echolls isn't making him want to punch the guy sitting next to him that's leaning drunkenly onto his shoulder.

Piz is a lover, not a fighter. But he's also a liar.

"_No, please, don't ask me that. You know how hard it is for me to say. I know you love me, Piz, I know, but it's too hard, you know that. It's not fair of you to ask me that. I'm sorry."_

He fails. That's the thought in his head as he takes a swing at the drunk next to him. Piz just fails—at keeping cool, at self-control, at making girls happy, at making himself happy. At life, basically.

Piz fails, utterly and spectacularly. But that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy socking the guy in the jaw and startling the shit out of everyone in a few feet radius.

He only wishes it were Logan.

The guy's too drunk, too uncoordinated, to fight back right away. But Piz only gets in one more punch before the guy's on top of him, pounding and yelling incoherently. Piz is strong, but this guy's bigger, and he can't overpower him. And then he realizes the guy has friends, and suddenly there's more than one of him, and they're dragging Piz to his feet and hurling blows to his stomach and ribcage and he's on fire.

But he's more alive than he has been all night, and maybe that's what Veronica Mars did to him. Stamped him out, beat him down, killed him slowly, and maybe he's better off without her.

He doubts it, though. Veronica's amazing. He'll never be better off.

"_Piz?" Veronica's voice is slightly warmer, slightly more emotional, different than the cold, emotionless ice that had been pouring from her mouth all night. But her face is the same; masked, unfeeling, and he wonders why he'd never really seen it before. "Are you going to be okay?"_

_He knows he won't. There are no doubts. _

_But Piz is a liar. He knows that, too. So he says, "Yeah. Sure."_

Veronica's face is in his mind, and suddenly his vision is almost white with self-loathing. He thinks briefly about just letting himself be beaten to death by these guys, but decides he doesn't want to go out a coward—he doesn't want to be what made Veronica dump him. So he fights—arms flying, legs kicking out, punching whatever he can. One guy goes down. Another's nose starts gushing blood, and he lets go of Piz to put his hands to his face. Now it's Piz and the original guy, who seems the strongest of all of them, as he shoves Piz back into a wall.

He's convinced that this is it, the guy is simply going to snap his neck now, and fear makes him brace himself, ready. But suddenly then man's hands are wrenched away, and he's stumbling off to the side, and the bar owner is smirking in Piz's face. Piz's nose is bleeding and his lip is swelling but he can't help meeting the bar owner's vicious, biting gaze.

"Well, what do we have here?"

* * *

Logan calls Lamb on a cell phone in his shithole of a house, not quite in Pacoville but close enough for his discomfort. Part of the plan is to make him seem poor, and that means convincing everyone of it. Even Dick, who won't come near his place with a ten-foot pole.

"What?" comes Lamb's barked greeting, and Logan rolls his eyes.

"Why Sheriff, it's almost like you don't like me."

"Cut the shit, Echolls. Is it done?"

"Yeah, it's done. But it's not gonna work, I'm telling you." Logan flops down on his messy, cheap mattress, sighing, frustrated.

"It'll work. Trust me."

"Trust you? Seriously? Trust _you, _who backed me into the shittiest, dumbest undercover job I've ever seen in my life? You?"

"Fuck you, Echolls. If it wasn't for me and my shitty, dumb undercover job, you'd be rotting in San Quentin right now. Actually, that can still be arranged. One flick of a fucking pen and this is done, and you can go ahead and meet your new husband. Is that what you want?"

Logan rolls his eyes again. Working for Lamb makes him want to stab his eyes out, but he has no choice. He'd gotten into one too many frat party brawls last year; getting kicked out of Hearst had been the icing on top of a 10-year prison sentence cake, before Lamb had intervened.

He hadn't wanted to take the deal. He'd told that to Cliff, the only other soul in Neptune who knew about it besides him and Lamb. He thought it was ridiculous, insane, and would never work. It was pretty much suicide. And then Parker broke up with him. He hadn't realized he'd fallen so hard for her. And he hadn't realized that, with all his protectiveness and all of his macho brawling, he had only been pushing her away, only becoming the kind of antagonist that she was afraid of, the kind he'd been protecting her from when this whole mess had started.

Full of regret, ridiculously depressed, convinced there was nothing left to lose, he signed the papers, and signed his life away to Lamb.

"You know that's not what I want." His voice is hollow, tired; he's not even all the way in yet and he's already fucking sick of this.

"Good. Then cooperate. Expect a visit from Liam or someone soon. You know what to do." Lamb hangs up without a goodbye, and Logan doesn't miss him. He throws the phone down on the floor next to his mattress and runs a hand tiredly through his hair.

He knows what to do. That doesn't mean it's going to work. Or that's it not going to get him killed.

* * *

He's grateful, at least, that they haven't tied him up. Yet.

Piz swallows hard, throat like sandpaper, and looks up at the bar owner, whose name he's learned is Liam, and his friend, whose name he's learned is Danny. He swallows again and thinks about speaking, loses the nerve and swallows one more time. Liam chuckles wryly at his discomfort and leans against the wall of the backroom they'd brought him into, arms crossed over his chest.

The silence is ridiculous; the anticipation is killing him more than any of that drunken guy's punches did. He has to speak, has to ask what they want with him, because waiting for it is going to make his heart stop beating. "Um, what—what do you guys want with me?"

Danny and Liam both chuckle this time, and Piz has never heard anything more sinister. "I don't know," says Danny, looking at Liam. "Liam, what do you think we want?"

Liam shrugs nonchalantly, but doesn't look away from Piz. "See, Danny, I'm thinking that since we just helped our new friend here out of a bind, he owes us a bit. Isn't that right?"

Danny looks as though the thought just occurred to him. "You know, you might be right."

"Of course I'm right." Liam nods affirmatively, and Piz feels real fear curl up inside him. What could he, Piz, from Beaverton, possibly have to offer them?

"I—of course, yeah. Um, thank you. Just—what do you want? I'll do—do whatever—" His brain is telling him to shut the fuck up, that he's going to regret that last sentence, and Liam's venomous smile is telling him the same thing, but somehow, he just doesn't care.

"Whatever? We might have something in that genre." Liam seems to be sizing Piz up, and he nods a bit, as though thinking to himself. "Right. Ever deliver anything, kid?"

Piz knows they're not talking about pizza, but he blurts out, "Yeah, I was a pizza-boy once." Danny cracks up and Liam rolls his eyes, but he smirks, too, and Piz is starting to think that that's his default expression.

"Well, you can pretend this is pizza, if you want, but it'll cost a little more. How 'bout this—my buddy Dan here is gonna give you the package and tell you where to go, how much to get. Danny, I've gotta go take care of the Echolls situation. I really don't need that little punk sniffing around here, looking for a favor. You can handle this?"

Danny nods, and Piz feels himself let out a silent sigh of relief. Delivering a package—no matter how illegal it might be—can't be that hard.

And it looks like Logan's night might go a lot worse than his. And that's always a plus.

* * *

Liam shows up much sooner than he expected. In fact, he hadn't expected him to show up, ever, proving just how stupid Lamb's plan was. But show up he does, and quickly, too, not more than an hour after the call to Lamb.

He eyes Logan up and down, and then looks past him into his house. "Nice place," he sneers. "Not what you're used to, though, huh? I heard about the gambling thing. Shame."

Logan doesn't take the bait, he keeps it cool, just like he's supposed to. Inscrutability. It's key. "So, I guess you're here about Molly. You're welcome. It was really no trouble at all, just a few bruised knuckles. I mean, I can understand why you might be confused, considering our history, but I'm a pretty good—"

"What do you want?" Just as he wanted him to, Liam cuts him off, and Logan smirks on the inside.

He allows Liam to step into his front door, but keeps him in the front hallway. He gestures around at it, and looks Liam in the eyes. "As you can see, my recent monetary status has—changed. I've also been kicked out of school, and had to pay a bunch of legal fines for my various indiscretions."

Liam smirks, almost triumphantly. "That's all unfortunate. But what does it have to do with me?"

Logan smirks back, because the situation calls for it. "Because I need you to give me a job."

He wasn't expecting that, and he actually laughs, but Logan was expecting that, so he's prepared. "You're insane, you do realize that, right?"

He smiles coldly. "It's crossed my mind, yeah. But, come on. You already know I can handle a weapon. I can push, I can collect, I'm an extra pair of hands. You can use me and you know it. I mean, this way, we help each other out."

"Why don't you go work for one of your rich boy friends?"

"Because my rich boy friends want nothing to do with me. And none of them owe me."

He's swaying Liam, he knows it. A little more and he'll tip him over. "Come on. You'll employ fucking PCHers but not me? You have no idea how insulting that is. And you know, I think my mom was part Irish." He grins. He's getting him.

"Why would you even want to work for me?" Liam spits out. "Considering our history—"

"Fuck history, dude," Logan says. "History isn't going to get me out of this shithole. History isn't going to buy me bread. I need this, and you know what? So do you. Because you owe me now, and you do not want that debt hanging over your head."

There's a glint in Liam's eye as he starts to nod slowly, but Logan barely notices because he's pretty fucking shocked. Shocked at Lamb, shocked at Liam, shocked at this whole fucking situation that he just knows is going to blow up. But he has no choice. No more choices now. And there's no turning back.

He signs his life away for the second time that month, with the handshake of an Irishman who'd probably step over his corpse any day of the week. And he's been calling Lamb dumb.

* * *

Turns out, when you're collecting money from a drug addict in exchange for drugs, it's really made difficult when said drug addict doesn't want to give you the money. Especially if said drug addict has a few pounds on you and more than a few inches. And if his multiple prison tattoos are making you sweat a bit and wish you were home in bed with a nightlight on. Maybe Piz got in a few good punches at the River Stix, but he's not built for fighting, not at all, and he knows it. So violence in this matter will have to be Plan B. If only he could come up with a Plan A.

The addict (Diego, Danny had said his name was, after laughing for about ten minutes over Piz's name. "What, like, Piss? Your ma named you Piss?") is eyeing the black plastic bag Piz is clutching in his hands with a certain ferocious hunger Piz has always associated with drug addicts. Not that he's ever actually met one personally, but he can imagine it.

Piz clears his throat awkwardly and looks the guy straight in the eye. "Dude," he says, trying to sound reasonable (and his voice isn't shaking, no, not at all). "I can't give you this without the money. You look like a smart guy. Can't you understand what kind of position I'm in?"

Diego is stubborn, though, he'll give him that. He frowns at Piz. "Look, White Bread, just hand it over. Tell Liam I owe him."

Piz shakes his head. He doesn't want to think about what Liam and Danny might do to him if he goes back empty handed. ("Piss," Danny said seriously. "I swear on my mother's grave, if you come back empty handed, I will take a blow-torch to that pretty hair of yours. You with me?")

"I can't do that, Diego, I'm sorry, buddy."

Diego looks pissed. "I'm not your buddy, asshole. Give me the fucking bag."

Piz folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "No. I'm sorry."

Diego seems to calm down, but Piz is not an idiot. And when Diego gestures inside his house and invites him in to wait while he gets out money, Piz is hyper aware.

He's always known that drug addicts are pretty dumb, but he never realized they're just plain stupid until he spots Diego's wallet lying on an end table near a ratty, worn-out couch sitting in front of a TV that Piz knows _must _be stolen. He'd really only been planning to grab whatever Diego owed him and leave the rest, along with the meth. But then Diego comes at him with the baseball bat, screaming and cursing in a mix of Spanish and English, and Piz has no choice but to throw the bag at him and take off with the wallet.

Turns out, when you're a drug addict in between fixes and your current career is selling hot TVs out of a garage, you carry a lot of cash in your wallet. In fact, as Piz counts out the money (twice the amount that was owed), he can't quite understand why Diego didn't just pay him in the first place. He voices this to Danny as he hands the money over, and Danny's kind of speechless.

"'Ey, Liam! Get over here and look at what Piss brought us from Diego!"

Liam seems impressed, too, and Piz gets this strange sort of pride in him. He'd been brought up to believe that stealing is bad, and dealing is almost worse, but the way these two are looking at him, like he's worth more than he thought, it makes him feel good. Damn better than Veronica's been making him feel.

"You got Diego to pay?" Liam asks, whistling as he spots the money.

"Better," says Danny, almost gleeful. "He got him to _double _the money."

"No fucking way," Liam says, a slow grin spreading over his face. "Diego? Fucking cheapskate Diego?"

"Diego," Danny confirms. He grins widely over at Piz. "Nice job, kid."

Piz feels his cheeks flush, and this is ridiculous. These are _bad men. _Criminals. He should not be glowing in their approval. Jesus. "Um, thanks."

Liam looks like he's thinking hard, and his grin stretches wider as he fixes Piz with a curious gaze. "You know, we could you use you around here," he says slowly, voice like velvet, like a sleazy commercial. "You need a job, kid?"

He should say no. He should turn around, walk out of the bar, call Wallace to pick him up, and go home to Beaverton. He should forget he ever met Liam or Danny, forget he ever stole from a raving drug addict named Diego. He should call Veronica in the morning, maybe ask to talk. He should beg her to give him another chance, and he should make things right.

But Piz doesn't really want to lie to himself anymore. And he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that in some strange, sick, twisted way, he wants this a whole lot. He's not sure why, only knows this:

Why the fuck not?

* * *

His first job is with Danny, and it involves wrestling money out of some PCHer who hasn't paid his tab in a while. Logan knows Liam sent him on this job just to throw history in his face, and because he's a sadistic son of a bitch. But Logan takes it in stride, and he solemnly holds the PCHer's arms back while Danny punches with no quips or comments. Liam raises an eyebrow when Logan dumps the money in front of him, but he grins appreciatively when it's counted, and claps Logan on the back.

"Mark," he calls out into the dark shadows of the River Stix. "Get the new kid over here a beer, will ya? Just finished his first job."

Logan accepts the beer quietly, tipping it to Liam and swallowing half of it. It's cheap and stale in his mouth, but he swallows it because it's something to do.

There's nothing much more for him to do that day; they have another new kid out collecting with Tommy. He plays pool with Danny and Mark for a while and then goes home, rips his wire off and calls Lamb.

"You did good," Lamb tells him. "Good start. They like you. All you have to do now is build their trust. Don't fuck up."

Logan's been living the simple life lately, not touching the secret accounts that no one knows exist, as per Lamb's demand. But his one indulgence is the bottle of Evan Williams 23 year-old bourbon he bought right after making the deal. He considers rationing it and then discards that idea, drinking himself stupid that night and passing out on that ratty mattress. If he's gotta be an Irish mob soldier, then he's sure as hell gonna drink the part.

He's learning things now, faster than he'd thought, and it really is like living a whole other life. He slim-jims cars and breaks into houses and learns that gasoline really is an effective interrogation technique. He carries a gun again but this one's loaded, and this one doesn't make him feel like a badass. It just gives him chills to look at, to think about using it.

"Don't kill anybody," Lamb tells him over the phone. "I can't protect that. Anything else, knock yourself out. But don't kill anybody."

"This wire's making me nervous," Logan tells him, kicking a beer bottle over on his floor (he's been getting used to the taste). "I feel like they're gonna find it and shove it somewhere unpleasant. And these sick fucks will do it, too."

"Don't worry about it," Lamb says, but he sounds anything but consoling. "You'll worry yourself into blowing your cover. Just stay cool."

Next day, Liam sends him on a job with Mark and Logan breaks some guy's kneecaps for a reason he's not really sure of, only cause he was told to. He's breathing hard and pale when they get back to the River Stix, and Liam looks at him closely.

"Take the night off," he says, giving his shoulder a pat. "You look like shit, Echolls. It's okay. Piss can cover for you tonight. Go home."

He's too tired and shaken to argue, though he knows Lamb will be pissed. He goes home and counts the seconds before Lamb calls him, yelling.

"What the fuck?" says Lamb. "You were supposed to go with them to the Mendez deal. And who the fuck is Piss?"

Logan shrugs, then realizes Lamb can't see him and sighs. "What was I supposed to do, Lamb? He sent me home. Piss is the other new kid. He collects. Haven't met him yet."

"Well, meet him," Lamb says gruffly. "You're supposed to be able to ID everyone, you know that. Or is all that booze getting to you?"

"Hey," Logan snaps, annoyed. "You're the one who made me go Irish. It's gotta be realistic, remember?"

"Whatever. Just stay focused. You drop out of a deal like this again, and we pull the plug. We need you involved, remember? Building a case? Ringing any bells?"

"Fuck you," says Logan, cause he's really fucking sick of Lamb. He hangs up and drinks another beer, because what else is there to do? Sit around, missing Parker and Dick and fuck, even Veronica? Logan's decided he's getting too old for pity-parties. So he drinks.

* * *

Piz has been able to hold his own when it comes to muscle. He's been really good with talking to people, getting them to agree and see reason without having to resort to Danny or someone beating the shit out of them. But so far, he hasn't done anything too huge, too important. The other new kid has been getting all of the bigger jobs, something Piz kind of resents, but he gets it. They need to learn to trust him, see what he's good at. Veronica was the same way in the beginning of their relationship.

When Liam asks him if he wants to come with them to the Mendez deal, he's ridiculously happy. Liam and Danny take him into that same backroom and Liam sifts around in the boxes for a little bit, before turning around and handing Piz a pistol. "Ever fire a gun?" Liam asks him.

Piz thinks about lying for a second, then decides it would be stupid, and Liam would probably know anyway. So he shakes his head. Danny chuckles a bit and grins at him. "It's easy, Piss. Just pull the trigger."

He rolls his eyes but says nothing, taking the gun and putting it in the waistband of his jeans. This is a Big Deal. This is like, an initiation or something. Piz has never even touched a gun before. Piz is like, a gun virgin.

"You don't use that unless absolutely necessary," Liam tells him seriously. "I don't need this turning into a bloodbath. You stay close to me or Danny and you don't do anything unless we tell you. Understood?"

Piz understands.

He feels like he felt before his first date with Veronica—anxious, nervous, nearly nauseous with the pressure of it all. The pickup pulls in front of the meeting place and he piles out with the guys but his head is in the clouds. This is a Big Deal. This isn't just petty stuff anymore. This makes Piz a real criminal. And that both nauseates and excites him. God, he needs help.

Liam and Carlos Mendez talk quietly, while the crews hang back on opposite sides of the room. Piz sees Danny eyeing each of the Hispanics warily, and he follows suit. The conversation gets a little heated, and though Piz knows next to nothing about what they're talking about, he knows enough to realize it's not going good. The fact that Carlos suddenly thrusts his hand into his jacket only solidifies that, and Piz feels real fear bubble up as guns are drawn. He breathes a little easier when Liam fires first, but then Mendez's crew also have guns, and they're firing at Liam's crew and this is exactly what Piz knows Liam didn't want. He grabs cover under a table and pulls Danny down with him, but he's not sure what to do. Liam told him not to use his gun, and he's not sure if it's necessary yet.

As if reading his mind, Liam calls over, "Piznarski! Get your fucking gun out!"

And that marks the day when Piz kills someone for the first time.

* * *

Getting rid of bodies is something Logan hasn't had the pleasure of experiencing yet. But get rid of them he does as he and the other men struggle to cover up the disaster that was the Mendez deal.

"Got a fucking guardian angel, Echolls," Danny gripes as he and Logan load the bundled body into the pick-up. "Missed the whole damn thing. Meanwhile, your replacement got made. Really shook him up, too. None of us were expecting that from him."

"What's his story, anyway?" Logan asks casually, wiping sweat from his brow and bending down to pick up another end of another corpse. "My replacement, I mean." Lamb had pitched a giant fit when Logan had told him about the shootout, and had demanded that Logan find out the identity of anyone who had killed anyone. Logan now knew that Liam, Danny, Mark and this Piss guy had each killed people, but he needs more info if he wants to get Lamb to shut the fuck up.

"Piss?" Danny asks, gripping the shoulders of the body and hauling it up with Logan. "He's just a kid, probably your age. Got into a fight one night over here, and we helped him out of it. He shook a shitload of money out of Diego, which is why we even considered him for a job. He's not from here, I don't think. I think he said he was from Oregon. Beaverville, or something—"

_Thump_. The legs of the body hit the metal bed of the trunk as they slip from Logan's hands. He stares over at Danny in a mix of shock and disbelief. No way. No fucking way. "Hey, uh, what's his name?"

Danny thinks about it for a minute, swigging from a beer thoughtfully. "Some Polish name, uh—Piznarski? Yeah, that's it."

He fights the urge to laugh out loud right then, because none of this is fucking funny, and yet it so is. Piz, Veronica's Piz, is Piss, newest soldier for the Fighting Fitzpatricks and Liam's favorite collector. "Hey, uh, is he here? Like, now, in the bar?"

Danny nods. "Think so. Liam wants him to take it easy. Like I said, he was pretty shaken up—" Logan's heading for the River Stix before Danny finish, because this is too fucking much.

And there's Piz, sitting at the bar, shoulders slumped as he hangs his head over a beer. Liam nods at Logan as he enters, and Logan nods back, but he doesn't take his eyes of off Piz as he makes his way slowly over to him. Piz doesn't turn to face him, and Logan slips onto the stool next to him. He speaks to him in a low voice, teeth gritted. "I need to talk to you."

Piz doesn't respond right away, but when he does, his eyes widen and his jaw drops. "What are you—"

"No. Not here, not fucking here, you idiot. You're staying here when we dump the bodies?"

Piz's eyes are burning, his jaw clenched, but he nods stiffly. Logan claps him on the shoulder; Piz glares.

"Hey, Liam!" he calls, turning around. "Do you think I could stick around here while the guys get rid of our Hispanic friends? Piss looks like he might need some babysitting."

Liam considers it while Piz positively seethes next to him, and Logan can see the muscles in his face tightening against the strain of an argument. Then Liam nods, and Logan tips a beer to him and claps Piz on the shoulder again.

"Don't fucking touch me," Piz snaps lowly, and Logan rolls his eyes.

"Wait till they leave, asshole," he spits out.

At long last, Liam and the guys take off, leaving only Piz, Logan, Mark and a handful of customers. Logan looks at Mark and gestures to the back room; Mark nods his understanding, and Piz and Logan head back. Once the door is closed, Logan turns around to get Piz's fist in his face, snapping his jaw back with a crack. "Ow," he says dryly, shoving Piz back. "What's your problem? Don't punch me again."

"My problem?" Piz exclaims, astonished. His eyes are wide and his fists are still clenched and Logan rolls his eyes. Drama queen. "My _problem? _What the fuck are you doing here?"

Logan sighs. "I work here, dickhead. For about as long as you have. I think the question is, what the fuck is Piz from Beaverton doing here?"

* * *

It's not fair. It really isn't. Nothing is his. Not Veronica, and now not even his fucking job. It's not fucking fair at all.

Piz has to physically keep himself from punching Logan again, and it's really hard. Of all the people in the world, Logan Echolls has to be the one he's stuck working with. Piz already knows that Liam loves Logan. Logan's his star, rising fast and working hard, and Piz had been okay with being second best until now. Now he can't stand it. Because losing to Logan is not something he ever wants to do again.

He just has to take everything. And it's not fucking fair.

"Stay the fuck out of my way," Piz grits out, and he could kill Logan right now, he's so pissed.

Logan shakes his head in this ridiculous, sad, pitying way. "Piz," he says slowly. "Why are you here? You don't belong with these people."

He can't believe it. He really can't believe the guy has this kind of nerve. "Fuck you," he exclaims, eyes wide. "These people are my bosses. _Your_ fucking bosses, asshole. What, you think you're better than me? Tougher than me or something? I killed someone yesterday because your lazy ass got sent home yesterday. I belong wherever I want."

Logan sighs real big, like dealing with Piz is such a chore, and he really, _really _hates this guy. "Jesus," Logan whispers. "Did Veronica mess you up that badly?"

He can't hold back now; he launches himself at Logan. But Logan is stronger, and quicker; he knocks Piz back with one swing, and his head is spinning. Hatred is pounding through his veins, and he's welcoming it, because this is the first time all day where he's not sick with guilt. (He doesn't want to think about yesterday, about all the blood and the noise and the rushing in his ears as he pulled the trigger and the guy fell. He doesn't want to think about that.) Piz throws another punch; Logan returns it, then stops back, wiping blood from his nose and frowning.

"I'm not gonna fight you, Piz," he says, arms up. "I'm gonna leave you alone, and I'll stay out of your way. I just think you're better than this."

"Fuck you," Piz repeats, breathing hard. Logan looks at him long and hard, then nods and backs his way out of the room. Piz lets out a long, heavy sigh and slams his throbbing knuckles into a table.

Fucking Logan.

* * *

When Liam comes back, he eyes Piz's swollen lip and Logan's bruised nose and grins.

"Did you ladies bond?"

Both look up and glare, and Liam cackles. Logan rolls his eyes. "Well, I'm glad. Because I'm sending you guys out on a job together."

Logan sighs heavily. The only good part is Piz's look of outrage.

* * *

It's not so bad. They don't talk. Logan's the brawn, and Piz is the charm; people like Piz, even dealers that owe money they don't have. Logan looks mildly impressed every time Piz squeezes out more and more money out of people, and that makes Piz feel satisfied. Even though he shouldn't give a fuck if he impresses Logan, because he hates Logan.

It's not so bad. As long as they don't talk.

* * *

He's learned some things about Piz. For one thing, he's guilty. Constantly, completely guilty. That's how Logan knows this job is so wrong for him. He might try and talk tough and maybe he can throw a punch, but every bit of venom and every hit flashes across Piz's face in waves of guilt.

It's funny. He and Piz got into this for very different reasons, and they seem to be having the opposite reactions. Logan's supposed to be the guilty one, the one doing bad things for a good cause, and yet he can't bring himself to be guilty. It's the one thing he agrees with Lamb about; guilt can wreck this. Guilt can make the castle of sand just topple over. Guilt can cost him his life.

So he swings the bat harder and harder down onto the legs of the guy that tried to con Tommy out of earnings the other night. The guy screams and the guy flails and the bones crack, but Logan doesn't stop, because this is his job. He may not like it and it may scare him into alcoholism but it's his job. And he has no choices.

Piz cracks soon, as he'd expected. He's watching the bat swing down with anguish in his eyes, and he suddenly shakes his head, pitches forward and grabs Logan's arm. "Stop," he says, and it takes Logan a second to register it. He smirks at Piz.

"Is it making you queasy? Heart bleeding for the poor little welcher? Thought you were a tough guy, Piss."

Piz glares, but can't gulp down the nausea and guilt. "I—just—"

He's almost guilty about being hard on the guy, but he's never gonna get Piz out before Lamb moves in if he doesn't rib him a little. "Wake up, Piznarski. You're not in Kansas anymore."

Piz folds his arms over his chest. "I'm from Oregon, prick."

Logan laughs and drops the bat.

* * *

He supposes it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. But even so, his stomach plummets when Liam hands Logan an envelope and tells the two of them to go drop it off at Mars Investigations.

While Logan urgently questions Liam about his and Keith's "mutual client", Piz dreads the thought of seeing Veronica. Last year, Veronica had been his whole world, and when she'd left him, he'd had to find a new world. He knows it's unhealthy, to go from one destructive lifestyle to an even more destructive one, but this is working for him. Liam and the guys don't judge him, don't expect much from him, and they teach him things he never thought he'd learn. That's more than anything Veronica ever did for him. That makes him sad, but it's the brutal honesty of it that makes him reluctant to see Veronica again.

He and Logan are silent on the car ride over, until he tells Logan he'll wait in the car.

"You sure?" Logan wants to know, and it occurs to Piz that Logan must be just as uncomfortable with this as he is. But he's not Logan's friend, and he's not doing him any favors. So he nods.

"I'm sure," says Piz, and Logan looks him long and hard before exiting the car.

For the time in, well, forever, Piz kind of feels sorry for him. Kind of.

* * *

Veronica's at her desk, because God hates him. Of course. She looks up as he enters and the surprise registers on her face, but then she masks it and gives a smile. "Logan," she says, and he knows her well enough to know the pep in her voice is fake. "It's been a while. How are you?"

Logan nods fairly stiffly, shuffling his feet. "Can't complain."

She looks pained, suddenly, and he can see her choosing words carefully in her mind. "I heard about the, um, gambling—"

He laughs. "You mean the catastrophe that landed me in Bankruptcy Town? Bummer, huh?" It's so much easier to laugh at yourself when what you're laughing at is bullshit.

She sets her jaw and clears her throat. "Yeah. Well, I'm glad to see you're recovered. You'll have to invite me over to your new place sometime."

"Yeah. We can play Uno with the roaches. I have to drop something off for Keith. Is he in there?" Logan holds the envelope up.

"Yeah, but you can just give it to me." Veronica holds her hand out for it, and Logan knows she's just itching the open it. He grins.

"Nope. My boss would have my ass if I gave this to anyone but Keith. Plus, I need to talk to him."

Veronica looks annoyed. "You have a job? Where?"

Logan shakes his head. At least some things never change. "Not important. I'm gonna go in to see your dad now, okay?"

She looks even more annoyed, frowning and glaring. "Fine. Go on in."

He goes into Keith's office and shuts the door behind him, hearing her indignant huff in his head. He smiles as he turns around, and Keith stands up and shakes his hand.

"Hello, Logan. What can I do for you?"

Logan shakes his head. "We'll get to that. Here. Liam sent this." He hands Keith the envelope, and watches his reaction. Just like his daughter, he betrays almost nothing.

"And what are you doing dropping things off for the Fitzpatricks?" Also like his daughter, Keith Mars is a snoop.

"You can probably guess," Logan tells him. "Gotta pay the rent. Don't tell Veronica, though. I don't need a lecture."

Keith frowns, dropping the envelope on his desk and gazing at Logan piercingly. "Logan, if you needed the money so badly that you went to Liam—"

"It's cool, Mr. Mars," Logan says shortly. "I don't need a lecture from you, either. But what I do need is for you to listen to me."

His face tightens, but he nods and waves a hand at Logan, giving him the floor. "I'm listening."

"Back off, okay? You don't need to go head to head with Liam. I don't know what this is, but whatever it is, just drop it. It's not worth it, I promise. Because if it comes down to you or Liam, I can't protect you, Mr. Mars. I'm sorry." Logan shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at Keith, praying that he'd gotten through to him. But again, he betrays nothing, just nods a little thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Logan. We'll see how it all turns out. I appreciate your concern."

"You're welcome," Logan practically spits, frustrated at the lack of response. "Have a nice day, Mr. Mars."

"You too, Logan. Be careful."

"Always."

He gives Veronica a salute on his way out, and she just glares at him as he goes. Piz has the radio up loud in the car, and for once, Logan doesn't turn it off.

"How was it?" Piz asks, and Logan can't believe he actually cares.

"It was fine," says Logan, and they don't talk anymore.

* * *

Danny and Logan teach him how to play poker. Mark teaches him pool. Tommy teaches him how to get blood out of a carpet.

Liam teaches him how to forget about killing people.

"It feels shitty at first," Liam tells him, passing him a shot glass and pouring him a bit of the good whiskey they almost never drink. "And it's gonna feel shitty for a while. But the best thing to is remember that you had to. That's all."

Piz wants to ask how many people Liam's _had _to kill, then decides he doesn't want to know. Doesn't really need to know. Liam's concerned enough about him to have this kind of talk with him, and that's enough for Piz.

It's working, too. He's getting over it. He just hopes he doesn't have to do it again. He's not so sure how well he'd get over that.

* * *

Lamb wants to move in; the idea of it is making Logan's stomach ache. Lamb tells Logan they're going to pinch Tommy, Mark, and Piz when they go and load the several kilos of cocaine they have coming to them.

"I'd prefer to get Liam too, but I'll take what we can get," Lamb tells Logan, but Logan's barely listening. Logan's trying to figure out how the fuck he's going to get Piz out of there, because guys like Piz don't do well in prison. Piz is confused and childish and naïve, and he shouldn't get brought down just because he wants to play criminal.

Logan leaves his wire home the next day. He calls Lamb and tells him it's on the fritz, and he hangs up when Lamb tells him to stay home. He drives to the River Stix with a carefully formulated plan in his head, and he's so nervous he could puke. But he somehow feels safer without the wire. It feels more real without it, like he's doing this just to help some kid out. For once, he doesn't feel like the rat bastard he is.

He gives Liam the carefully thought out story about how some Mexican punk had been shooting off his mouth about Logan's mother the other day, and that one of Logan's old friends had heard him and told him. He tells Liam that he needs to go take care of it. And, just as he wanted, Liam tells Logan to take Piz with him. Colin can go instead.

Unless he's misreading him, Piz actually looks relieved to be going with Logan instead of the guys. But he ignores that fact and drives into Pacoville, picking a random Mexican standing in a random driveway. Logan needs this to look realistic in order for Piz to buy it.

And then he sees Veronica behind the Mexican's car, and he decides Piz really isn't worth it.

* * *

The Mexican just about pisses himself when he sees Piz and Logan, something that would amuse Piz far more if Veronica weren't standing just a few feet away. Sighing, he tells himself he has a job to do. He still hates Logan, but he'd rather be doing this than possibly killing people at a coke deal. Besides, he'd be pissed, too, if someone was talking about his dead mother.

Logan looks as uncomfortable as Piz feels, and Veronica just looks confused, like she can't quite figure out what's going on. But it's about to become clear as the Mexican starts whimpering.

"I don't owe nothin', man," he says, tan face pale with fear. "I paid Liam last week, I gave it to Danny. Just tell him I don't owe nothin'."

Veronica looks between the Mexican and Logan and Piz. "What is he talking about?" she demands. "And why are you two here?"

Logan looks pained. "You should go, Veronica." Piz realizes with a jolt that he doesn't want to beat the guy in front of her. That surprises him. Logan doesn't seem like the kind to care.

"No!" cries the Mexican. "No, don't go! They won't do anything if you're here!"

Piz laughs, stepping forward menacingly. "Wanna bet?"

"Piz," Veronica says sharply. "Logan. What the hell is going on?"

"They're Fitzpatrick guys," the Mexican says. "They're fucking crazy. They'll kill me. Please don't go."

"Veronica, get out of here," Logan says, eyes dark. Veronica glares at him, opens her mouth but Piz cuts in.

"He's right, Veronica. Just go. We have things to care of."

Veronica completely ignores Piz, something he resents. She only has eyes for Logan as she stares him down. "So this is your new job, huh? Liam's your boss? I should've known. You've always been great at breaking the law. Might as well do it professionally, right?" Her voice gets louder, nearly shaking with rage. "But why did you have to take Piz down with you, huh? Were you just bored? Didn't want to go down alone? I can't believe you, Logan."

Whoa. Logan opens and closes his mouth, but says nothing, and Piz is fucking glad. He's glad because Veronica's going way too far, putting it all on Logan, when Piz chose this himself. And he's trying to figure out what, exactly, about Veronica he's been missing all these months. Then he realizes he doesn't miss her anymore.

"Fuck you, Veronica," he says, and he's not sure who's more shocked, her or Logan. The Mexican slinks away back into his house, and Piz barely notices, eyes burning with anger. "Logan didn't take me anywhere. I didn't even know he was around when I started working for Liam. Give me a little more credit, Veronica. I make my own decisions."

"Piz," Veronica says softly, finally looking at him. "This isn't you. You can't seriously think that this is right for you—"

"You don't know me," he says. "You don't know what's right for me, either. You fucking dumped me, Veronica. But I'm over it. I'm over you. I'm just not over you judging me. And judging Logan. You don't have that right anymore." He turns to Logan, dismissing Veronica with cold, unfeeling eyes, the way she dismissed him all those months ago. "The guy got away, Logan. You wanna go after him or forget it?"

Logan looks impressed again, and he grins as he nods slowly. "Let's forget it. Come on, let's get back to the bar."

They leave without looking at Veronica again, and it feels fucking good. He feels free.

* * *

"It's gotta be Piznarski," says Liam, and Logan's stomach cramps. "It's gotta be."

Mark, Tommy and Colin have been locked up for two days now, and though Liam can't be bothered to bail them out, he's still mighty pissed about it. But what he's more pissed about is the possibility of a rat in his crew.

"It can't be," says Logan, because he's not going to sink that low as to throw the blame on Piz. "He practically worships you, Liam. He'd never roll over."

"You didn't see him, Logan," Liam says gruffly, knocking back a beer. "He was fucking gleeful when I told him he wasn't going on the coke deal. Didn't want to be found out. Fucking rat. I'm telling you, it's him."

"I don't know, Liam," Logan says. "I don't know."

He tells Lamb that night he won't wear a wire anymore. "He knows there's a rat, Lamb," he says, pissed. "He knows and he's not an idiot. He's gonna find out it's me and he's gonna kill me. No more fucking wire. It's just asking for it."

"It won't be much longer," Lamb promises him. "You'll be out soon enough. Keep the heat on that Piz guy. After that musical Mick stunt you pulled, it looks like him. Don't worry."

"Stop telling me not to worry," Logan exclaims. "I've gotta fucking worry, Lamb. This is my life. And no, I am not gonna set Piznarski up. Let Liam think what he wants, but I am not keeping the heat on anybody. That's too fucking much."

"I didn't send you in there to make friends," Lamb snaps. "Do your job. It won't be long." He hangs up without a goodbye, and Logan doesn't miss him. Logan throws the cell phone onto his mattress and runs a hand through his hair.

He just knows he's gonna be dead by the end of this. If not by Liam, then from the stress. He just knows it.

* * *

Everyone's on edge with this whole rat thing. Mark, Tommy and Colin are sitting in jail and so they're down three men, but all anyone can think about is the rat. Deals and meetings are made tentatively, and Liam decides it's safer to get the second shipment of coke delivered straight to the River Stix. That's not until Thursday. Until then, they're supposed to lay low, do nothing big or raise any red flags, because they have no idea who's watching.

"Fucking rats," Piz says to Logan as they watch a Padres game in the bar. "Giving Liam gray hairs. Who do you think it is?"

Logan doesn't answer, and Piz notices the tired lines in his face and the bags under his eyes. He realizes that this rat business has Logan stressed out, too. He remembers that Logan's on parole and feels for his coworker. If anyone has anything on the line here, it's Logan.

He gets Logan another beer and tells him to hang in there. "Liam will find him," he says. "Don't worry."

Logan drinks the beer wordlessly, in two big gulps. Piz cringes.

Poor guy.

"You can't trust anyone, Logan," Liam slurs. "No one. Not even blood. But hell, you know that better than anyone, right?"

Logan nods and drinks his beer. It's only the two of them tonight; everyone's gone home, and Logan didn't want to leave Liam drunk and alone.

"My old man was a bastard too, you know," Liam tells him. "Beat all of us kids. Except Cormac, of course. Cause Ma always loved him best. And Pop loved Ma." Liam chuckles. "You know, I didn't have to kill Cormac. It wasn't in the plan, I didn't really have to. But I just kept remembering my dad, bringin' that belt down, and my big brother standin' there, this big smirk on his face. And you know, I pulled the trigger and I wasn't guilty. Not at all. Cause I knew he never was."

And that's when Logan realizes that Liam Fitzpatrick considers him a friend. That's when he realizes that, even if he can't trust anyone, Liam trusts Logan.

And that's when the guilt starts. For the first time since the whole thing started, Logan is guilty.

It won't be long now. Thursday, and he's sure it's over.

* * *

Piz is nervous. It's Thursday and the shipment will be here any minute. Liam is shooting him looks that could kill and he's not sure why. But he's fucking nervous.

Logan looks ten times more nervous than he is, and he asks him why. "I have a bad feeling about this," Logan says.

"Why?"

"We're doing this with a fucking rat in the crew, that's why. Who's to say the cops don't show up?" Logan suddenly yanks his sleeves down around his hands and gets to his feet. "Fuck this. I'm telling Liam. He's gotta get out of here. It doesn't matter if the cops pinch us. But if they get Liam, it's all over."

Piz is nervous. But he is nowhere near as nervous as Logan is, as he watches him stomp over to Liam.

Liam actually listens. He really can't believe it. But Liam leaves Danny and Logan in charge and he leaves. But before he goes, he hugs Logan and thanks him for looking out for him, and Logan just about chokes. Piz isn't jealous anymore. He's not vying for Liam's attention. He's too nervous.

He's nervous, but he's not sure why. It's not the cops; he's never been arrested, but he thinks he could handle it.

Logan's phone goes off soon after Liam leaves, seconds after the shipment arrives, and he goes pale. Piz is helping unload but he stops and looks at Logan. "Your phone just rang," he says. "Is it Liam?"

Logan shakes his head. Then he grabs Piz by the arm and yanks him back. "Get out of here," he whispers roughly.

"What? Why?"

"Just trust me. Get out. Fucking go!"

And that's when Piz figures it out. Logan is the rat. Logan was just tipped off that the cops were coming.

For a second, he's angry. He's furious. And then he realizes that Logan got Liam out. Logan's trying to get Piz out. Logan's looking out for him. Logan's taking care of him.

Piz leaves just as the sirens sound.

* * *

He shares a cell with Danny, Niall and Ethan. The others are right next door. He's not sure how Lamb plans to get him out without raising suspicion; at this point, he doesn't really care.

As if on cue, the cell door clangs open, and Lamb points at him and gestures behind him. "You made bail, Echolls." He can't figure out how the fuck that happened, because as much as Liam likes him, he doubts he'd show up just to pay Logan's bail.

Lamb shoves him into an interrogation room, and he's seething. "I should let you rot for the stunt you pulled with Liam and Piznarski. I know you tipped them off, you little shit," he spits. "But I won't, because we have enough evidence to find the two of them and put them away. Get the fuck out of here. It's done."

He doesn't feel free. He feels kinda empty.

He thinks that's the most fucked up thing of all.

There are two blondes waiting for him outside of the station: Parker and Veronica. He almost smiles when he sees them, but he can't bring himself to. Parker hugs him and there are tears in her eyes. Veronica hangs back.

"Piz called me," Veronica tells him. "He told us everything. You did a good thing, getting him out of there. Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you. Don't thank me." Parker looks shocked at his sharp edges, and he shakes out of her embrace.

"What are you going to do now, Logan?" Logan gets why she's here. He's the good guy again, the hero, so now Parker wants him back. Right now, Logan just wants to leave. He just wants to be finished.

"I'm gonna go home. I'm gonna pack. I'm gonna leave."

Parker looks upset. "I can come with you. You don't have to be alone anymore."

But he does. She doesn't understand.

Veronica gets it, for some reason. She gets Parker to stand back, and she loops an arm around Parker's shoulder as she cries over Logan's goodbye. She watches Logan as he goes, he can feel her gaze, and he realizes he won't miss her, not as much as he'd like to.

He still feels empty.

Logan lets himself into his shithole of a house. He grabs a duffel bag and starts to pack. He turns around and there's Liam, in the doorway of his bedroom.

Liam has a gun and a tape recorder. Logan isn't surprised.

Lamb's voice fills the room. "I should let you rot for the stunt you pulled with Liam and Piznarski. I know you tipped them off, you little shit. But I won't, because we have enough evidence to find the two of them and put them away. Get the fuck out of here. It's done."

Logan swallows hard. Liam levels the gun with his face.

"Should I thank you?" Liam asks, his voice deadly. "Should I be grateful? Maybe. After all, I was one of your favorites, right? You let me go. I should thank my fucking lucky stars that Logan Echolls found me worthy to get away from the cops." Liam waves the gun.

"Liam," says Logan, even though he knows it won't be enough. "I'm sorry, okay, I didn't want to go through with it, I couldn't let you go down—"

"Fuck you, you piece of shit!" Liam shouts. "I trusted you!"

"If you trusted me, why did you bug me?" Logan asks. Never let it be said that Logan Echolls doesn't court danger.

"I bugged you to be sure," Liam says, flinging the tape recorder at the wall. "I bugged you because I needed to be sure it wasn't you. I believed it wasn't you. I didn't want it to be you. But you fucking played me. And _that's _why I'm killing you."

Two shots sound, and Liam goes down. Piz stands behind him, gun raised, still pointing in front of him. Logan looks at Piz. He looks shaken, like he did after the Mendez deal.

"Thank you," Logan tells him, even though Liam's dead body makes him guiltier than ever.

Piz doesn't lower the gun.

* * *

Kansas is nice. It's warm in the summer, and in the small towns, organized crime is like royalty. Piz gets a job and rises fast. He expands the drug ring so that it rivals that of small cities. Piz is a charmer. People like him.

Piz is a lover, not a fighter. He's also a liar. And he's good at finding liars. If Logan taught him anything, it was how to look for the signs.

He hates rats. He finds one in his crew and he executes him, no questions, no explanations. (He's getting used to it, this killing thing.) He suspects one and kills him, too, even as the guy promises to take care of him, look out for him.

Piz doesn't need people to take care of him. Piz takes care of himself.


End file.
